The Night Shift At Rivhal
by Aline Sitoe
Summary: A day in the life of a Cardassian hospital.


The Night Shift At Rivhal

**The Night Shift At Rivhal (1998)**

amantari2001@yahoo.com   
  
Based on: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine copyright Paramount/Viacom and George Simpson's _The War Room at Bellevue_, (c. 1983, News Group Publications). Though no canon Star Trek characters are in this story, it is set in the Deep Space Nine universe. This is my take on 24th century journalism.  


_FROM THE CARDASSIAN NEWS SERVICETM, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED_

SELADE JASIN, CORRESPONDENT

Rivhal. The name symbolizes a tradition of excellence. Two centuries ago, it was the Ministry of Health's shining jewel. Within these immaculate gray walls, Cardassian doctors worked tirelessly to develop standards that were admired (and emulated) by the entire quadrant. But that luster has tarnished somewhat with time. Despite the Ministry's promise to provide each district with its own fully-equipped medical center, Rivhal remains one of the few coastal facilities capable of handling severe emergencies. While this was once considered a "minor inconvenience," budget cuts and an increase in crime and pollution have tripled the number of incoming patients in the last five years.

Though Rivhal faces numerous problems, it remains a commanding presence. Equipment is outdated and often breaks down, but 95 percent of their patients survive. And while their emergency room reaches capacity night after night, the people refuse to go anywhere else. Why? The answer lies in the staff.

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STARDATE: 50567, TIME: 22:00 HRS.

I arrive two hours after sunset. After wandering around the lobby a few minutes, an intern greets me. Her voice brims with enthusiasm, despite the dark circles beneath her eyes. She proudly notes that in the past eight hours, some 200 people have been treated here. The figures seem impressive until a nurse whispers that only 30 percent of the cases were from their district. When it's time for budget allocations, Rivhal will only receive partial compensation for all the non-coastal residents they've served.

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TIME: 22:25 HRS.

The lobby erupts as the bodies of seven youths materialize. Each look as if they'd just come from a battle field. None look older than fifteen. Several nurses rush forth with tricorders. In the room to my left, the body of a fourteen-year-old girl is gently lowered onto a treatment table. "A bystander?" asks a doctor, staring into her innocent-looking face. "No, the leader," a nurse replies, noting the insignia bracelet on the girl's right arm. Though conscious, she twists and gasps for each breath; a large dark burn runs across the front of her lavender jumpsuit. The doctor performs a pulmonary scan while a nurse attaches monitors to her body. Another nurse administers a hypospray, rendering the patient unconscious. Though her breathing steadies, the doctor looks concerned. The blast has destroyed half of her lungs.

An hour later, five of the young patients have been stabilized. The other two were dead on arrival. A nurse begins to search for their families, but isn't having much success. "Probably orphans," he notes matter-of-factly. Meanwhile, in the room next door, an assistant retrieves a phaser from one of the deceased. He holds it before me, casually recalling the time when adolescents settled disputes with their fists. When I pointed out that the weapon looked Uridian, the elderly man says he suspected as much. Cardassian weapons don't leave anything for the doctors to save.

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STARDATE: 50568, TIME: 13:10 HRS.

A cadet hobbles in, supported by several of his comrades. He says he slipped while completing mock combat exercises in Patriot's Field. A half-hour later, he emerges from the treatment room with only a slight limp. Though grateful, the cadet is upset because he's lost all training points for the day. Meanwhile, in the room to the rear, a little boy wildly sobs in his mother's arms as the intern peels a bloody bandage from his left hand. The young woman nearly slips from her seat when she sees the deep, penetrating teeth marks of a wild grekhol.

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TIME: 14:00 HRS

The lobby is wonderfully quiet. After giving the treatment rooms a through scrubbing, the staff turns one of them into a makeshift bowling alley. With much fanfare, a nurse grabs a toy ball and steps back five paces. She takes a deep breath before swinging her arm back and letting go. The ball rolls quickly and steadily towards a row of gauze "pins." It reaches the first one... then stops. Everyone moans loudly as the nurse covers her face in embarrassment.

The game is interrupted, but not by the disapproving stare of a supervisor. Without a word, two regional patrol officers approach the front desk. One laughs to himself as he begins filling out forms. The other stands silent, firmly gripping the arm of a young man. All are soaking wet. The first officer explains that the man had been missing from the Central Technical Academy for over a week. When they tried to question him, he ran half a mile before jumping a bridge and attempting to drown himself in Lake Eldar. As the nurses help dry the men off, the officers conclude that this was simply a misunderstanding. The young man suddenly beings shaking his head. "There's no need to lie for me," he says in a soft, calm voice. " I jumped." "Why?" asks the shocked officer. "Don't you see them?" he replies. "The ghosts. They just won't leave me alone." One of the nurses recognizes the complaint. After accessing the patient database, it is revealed that the man has been hospitalized three times before.

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TIME: 14:30 HRS.

Patients continue to arrive at a steady pace: a bar fight, two heart attacks; and one broken neck have passed through the lobby in the last fifteen minutes alone. The room becomes so crowded that the staff begins checking ID's. Non-coastal residents will have to take numbers. With the exception of the most severe emergencies, people living outside Rivhal's jurisdiction will have a long morning's wait.

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TIME: 16:00 HRS.

The parents of the attempted suicide arrive. Though outwardly charming, the Legate and his wife appear deeply embarrassed. They thank everyone for their help, noting that such efficient service will not go unrewarded. This pleases many of the doctors, for a top official's good word can always help in acquiring more supplies. The gray-haired man tells a nurse that a little vacation would help their son get over this "unfortunate accident". When the nurse politely suggests further evaluation, the man gives him a cutting glare. A doctor quickly signs the discharge papers. Before the nurse leaves, he manages to slip a note into the mother's hand. She reads it, then quickly hides it in the folds of her dress. The Legate addresses the staff once more, this time reminding everyone that "accidents happen, and that it is best not to dwell on them." With that, the couple gently lead their son away. As they beam out, the young man begins to laugh uncontrollably.

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TIME: 16:15 HRS.

A nurse treats an infant with a severe cough. He's using an older, slower acting remedy because the shipment of tremethorphan still hasn't arrived. Suddenly, he looks up. "Oh no," he mutters as he hears the sound of scrambling footsteps. A second later, several people burst into the lobby. Two women in construction uniforms carry the body of a man. Three others follow, screaming for help. The intern cringes when he notices the man's bluish complexion. In the trauma room, doctors and nurses hover around the lifeless body. The man is given a hypo at the neck. Nothing happens. "It was just a minor cable leak," one of the women cries. "He said it wasn't going to be a problem." Over the next ten minutes, more hypos fly and various equipment is scattered about the small room. They try shocking his heart, but to no avail. A doctor looks at a scan, and suddenly it's all over. "We've done what we can," he says grimly. The room is still for a moment, then several of the man's co-workers begin to sob. The nurse sighs, quietly placing his tricorder away. The staff look dejected as they file out of the room.

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TIME: 16:45 HRS.

A middle-aged woman and several young children are ushered into the lobby. It's the dead man's family. The children are taken into a separate room, and the wife is asked to take a seat. "He's gone, isn't he?" she asks calmly. Within seconds, family and colleagues surround the covered body. Several of the medical staff are also present. Her voice choking, the widow thanks all who tried to save her husband. They all lower their heads and begin to pray quietly. "I feel like an idiot," a doctor whispers. "I don't know how to do this." "It's not that hard," the youngest child says reassuringly." Just let your heart do the talking."

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TIME: 17:10 HRS.

The staff prepares for the changing of the guard. Throughout the dimly lit lobby, doctors and nurses are still reeling from the evening blitz. Some sit quietly drinking their tea while others are clumped around the admitting desk discussing Sirval's latest enigma tale. In the waiting room to my right, several people continue to wait for word on relatives and friends. One of the interns falls asleep on a stretcher, and is taken to the nursery. A roomful of crying infants should wake him up.

Six cases of zalidian flu beam in--all members of the same family. The virus is unpredictable; killing some while merely making others appear intoxicated. In the middle of the assessment, the grandmother disappears. The 110 year-old-woman is eventually found in the east wing. Sweating and delirious, she waltzes up and down the corridor urging everyone to love each other. "We will," a nurse says sweetly while leading her back.

In another room, a woman is about to give birth. The father, a newly appointed Gul, is annoyed; he goes from doctor to nurse, blustering at the top of his lungs. He demands different doctors, better surroundings, but it's too late. A minute later, the man of power and influence sits in a corner, dazed, with a squirming infant girl in his arms.

...And so it continues. A broken generator, a viral infection, another phaser fight. The nurse stands at the desk, smiling as he counts recently arrived vials of tremethorphan. Through they certainly have the right to complain, the people of Rivhal choose not to focus on the negative. With determination and a sense of humor seldom seen these days, they make the best of what they have. In retrospect, that intern had reason to be proud.

**THE END**  
  
  



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